Beyond Man and Machines, The Hood, part 2.

Uploaded 10/21/2011

It had been two weeks since the chaos
and screams outside Ronalds flat had died out, now there was silence. Even the
sounds of birds seemed to have disappeared. To anyone else this would
seem eerie but to Ronald it was perfect. He began to feel that life
was starting a fresh, to him the whole human world had vanished;
leaving him with a brave new world to explore.

Over the years he had amassed a large
arsenal of weapons, assault rifles, sub machine guns and pistols. It
started as a hobby but turned into an arsenal that brought him
comfort and a sense of protection from the outside world.

Ronald grabs an M16 from the rack, lifting its
strap over his head. He slides a side pistol into a holster strapped to
his right hip and feels a bit better about going outside. Fear and
excitement; he had never felt so good in years.

Peering through a gap in the boards
nailed across his windows, Ronald scans the hallway in front of his
flat. Looking past the bannisters that run along the outside corridor
of his flat he sees the block of flats on the other side of the
street. Some flats are burnt out, others with their windows smashed
inwards. Litter fills the street. Occasional pools of blood, days
old, mark the pavement a dark red.

With the area seemingly clear, Ronald
slides across the three heavy dead bolts: above, below and in the middle, unlocking
the door. After a deep breath and a deeper exhale, Ronald opens the
door quickly a crack, then slowly opens it wide. Keeping his rifle
aimed down the corridor, he locks the door behind him, not taking his
eyes of the entrance to the steps ten meters down the hall.

Ronald inhales the fresh air outside of
his flat, listening for any noises. The slight breeze brushes past
his cheek, it was a good day for an adventure.

Out of the corner of his eye Ronald
sees a hooded head pop out from behind the entrance to the steps.
Ronald lets out a burst of fire that tear into the spot the head
retreated from. In a quick instinct derived from too many computer
games, Ronald sweeps the rifle on its sling to his side and slides out
the pistol in a fluid motion, moving quickly to the corner,
pointing the pistol around the corner firing a three shots blindly.

Waiting a moment for any sounds, Ronald
peers around the corner; pointing the pistol in front of him. There
is no one there. Before the rifle round had even ricocheted off the
wall next to him, Ronald was ducking and then falling flat on his
face. The plaster and wall fragments fall around him as the bullets continue to hit. With the rifle
uncomfortably digging into his rib cage Ronald curses and covers his head.

The shooting stops and Ronald breathes out a short breath blowing the
mortar dust away then breathed in as he raised to his feet, inhaling the dust back in. Coughing out the dust he makes his way up the stairs to the
second floor flats.